Coin Toss
by icecreamlova
Summary: Blood and hope, life and death. There is darkness in every family, but there is also light. A look at duality of the Fey Clan, and what it means for its very different members. Slight Diego/Mia
1. Side A: Darkness

_**02/09/2010**: Edited, condensed into 2 chapters rather than 10 cause the story's unfinished status was bothering me and the other plot bunnies I have can't be expressed in a few hundred words. And put into order... of a sort. Old readers will recognize most of the drabbles - except the very last one in Side B. This used to be called 'Screenplay', but since the oneshots aren't completely random any longer, it got renamed. Enjoy.. _

* * *

**Coin Toss  
**_By icecreamlova  
_Side A: Darkness

- : -

- : -

**Five Steps on the Road to Hell**

- : -

**1. Intentions**

The problem of justice becomes a question of revenge. Terry Fawles is gone, from life, from the world, and, to tell the truth, from your mind. Valerie Hawthorne barely merits a thought now and then, never mind a word. Good, justice and mercy, do not matter. They lie on one hand; vengeance curls up and hisses on the other. You call it The Greater Good, as if by renaming your intentions, you can change the reality of what they are.

**2. Priorities**

The father comes to you once. You keep this away from Mia, though you know she'll be crushed when she learns. You think this protects the woman you love. You give false reassurances to the grieving man, then interrogate him on all he knows about his errant daughter. He does not rate a mention. All your thoughts are for her. For the demoness.

**4. Ruthless**

You will do anything for revenge, but this does not bother you. You have come to terms with this disturbing reality years and years ago. There is a small girl in front of you, though. Little Pearl Fey, cheerful and innocent, so determined to do good. You could tell Trite. You could keep her safe. You should. You would... (But what if she gets away if you interrupt the plan...?) You don't.

**5. Obsession**

It is her face there-the smooth planes, deceptive eyes. Those braids. Such memories. You must stop her. It's easy-you're larger, right? But you pick up the staff. This is Dahlia. (Misty). Dahlia. (Pearl). Dahlia! Does it matter? You could almost see Mia's eyes, telling you this is not the way. But it drowns in the flood. Dahlia. Dahlia. Dahlia. Vengeance. Your triumph. Dahlia. Her flesh parts like water beneath your blade.

**3. Choice**

You had a second chance, once, to see the world again. You woke up. Mia was dead, but you were alive, and the road diverged before you. One away from her, you thought, and one to bring justice. You had a second chance. You chose her-you never noticed she was always right beside you, reaching for your shoulder. Because it was always your choice, to take the road to hell. No one else's. And you must have left your sight in death, because you couldn't see the middle path, though she was at the end of it.

- : -

**Farsighted**

- : -

The first thing on the list of requirements for her husband, which is to say the last, is 'love'.

She scribbles it there to please her mother.

It is a meaningless word, meant to be seen, not followed.

The second is 'power'.

Power to aide her rise. Power to gain from her. Power to call to power. Power to look after himself.

Respect. Control. Wealth. They are all substitutes for the all-important word.

(Substitutes are not enough, she will discover with her first husband. He will be wealthy; it is not power, which her sister has, and that will leave her drowning. It is not power, which her sister's position has, and that will leave the village floundering.)

She adds 'cunning', right before she adds 'ambition'. They are deadly, she knows, and they could destroy her. But Morgan will deal with risks as they are required, to get what she wants. Cunning and ambition will get her what she wants.

She doesn't write 'ruthless', and she doesn't write 'puppet', because she is ruthless enough for the two of them, and that he's a puppet is a given.

(Her second marriage will give her everything she wants, except for Maya's death, but she'll be ruthless and arrange that herself.)

It is a little girl's list, to choose a husband. It is a mastermind's list, a plan to be implemented over twenty years. It will get her what she wants.

Morgan stares down at it when she is done, and turns her face (and heart) away from Misty's giggles (love) at her own ridiculous list, before it changes what she wants.

She dreams of the future.

- : -

**Myopic  
**

- : -

The first thing on the list of requirements for her heir, which is to say the last, is 'love'.

Underneath is 'power'. Spiritual power. That's the only kind that matters, she knows now. So it's the only kind there is.

She is pregnant, with twins. Surely ONE of them...

It reminds her of a different list she made, twenty years ago.

But she doesn't write 'cunning', though she does add 'ambitious'. She wants to be the power behind the throne-she will not have a free-spirited daughter. It will jeopardize everything. A smart one will be even worse. What if the daughter turns on her?

She adds 'loyal'.

She writes 'ruthless', then strikes it off quickly when she remembers.

The twins are born-a matching set of flowers, so stunningly beautiful, everyone agrees. One is gentle and kind and agreeable. The other is cunning and ambitious and (compassionately) (but Morgan swiftly puts an end to THAT nonsense) ruthless. Neither have power, of the kind she wants anyway, which is the only kind, thus in Morgan's eyes, both are useless.

Love is not on the list, officially, so it doesn't bother her when her husband leaves her and takes the twins with him. Not one whit. Really. They were her pawns, she tells herself, and just that. She doesn't care at all.

She learns her lesson with them, though she won't admit it, so she's more careful when Pearl is born. Darling child. Her second marriage gives her everything on the list (except ambition, but Morgan will have that drummed into her), and she exalts.

Pearl is strong, with an abundance of the right (only) sort of power.

Pearl is loyal.

Pearl is kind (like Iris, not that it matters.)

Pearl is (compassionately) ruthless (like Dahlia was before she intervened, not that it matters).

The first thing on the list of requirements for her heir, which is to say the last, is 'love'.

It is a meaningless word, meant to be seen, not followed, which is why Morgan is surprised when she holds Pearl for the first time and feels it stirring in her heart again.

She dreams of the past and pushes her love away, so she can take advantage of Pearl's.

- : -

**Twins**

- : -

_"If I had found out she was planning to kill you...I would have done whatever was necessary to stop her. Even if it meant her life... or mine." _**- Iris, T&T 5**

- : -

She hears Dahlia Hawthorne being called a demon: hate-filled eyes and glaring visage, so determined to tear down the sky and crush the world.

That is the decision. The judge and jury have found her guilty, which she is, and sentenced her legacy to be a cold, dark, selfish, cruel woman. Ruthless. She will be remembered in dusty legal tomes or dry documents on computers for this trial only, as the spitting madwoman whose hate reached between worlds. Everything else might not have existed.

Dahlia lied.

Dahlia hated.

Dahlia killed.

Beneath her pity for her sister, throbs a primal, deeper, stronger emotion.

Fear.

She may not be Dahlia, but they are twins, and some traits run in families.

Iris lied too.

She lied for six months: fraud, identity theft, and all those pretties. She was someone else for six months; someone alive. She used Dahlia's credit cards, Dahlia's clothes, Dahlia's friends, Dahlia's luck to live in the real world and have everyone eating out of the palm of her hand. It doesn't matter that she had permission-because she also took Dahlia's tests for her, her papers and assignments.

She lied. She lied even more than Dahlia; she took on someone else's life.

Iris is afraid, because she hated too.

She hated just as passionately as Dahlia-the difference is that she didn't express it the same way.

At first she hated her father. She remembers the way her mother gaped and screamed-anger or misery, she's not sure. Her father had taken this last little hint of pride away from the woman who had lost everything; and she hated him for doing that. She hated him enough to ruin him through theft.

And then she hated the lawyers. They were probably good people. And they were just doing their job. But they were trying to take down her sister, who was everything-her best friend, her other half. She hated them enough that when Dahlia told her one of the lawyers wanted to talk to her again, she didn't try to tell Dahlia to be less ruthless.

It's true that Iris is kinder, more compassionate by nature; charitable to strangers and soft-handed with those she cares about. She shies away from hatred because she has known (felt) so much of it. And she still loves-so deeply that her heart aches. Love guides her every action; she will protect those she loves.

Iris is afraid.

She hasn't killed. That draws a sharp line-there's a huge difference between hatred and murder. Twins, not one person.

Except, if she had known Dahlia's plans for Phoenix...

...The one she hated most was Dahlia. A rush of deadly anger, when she had come to know Phoenix-that bright-eyed boy with deep, subtle intelligence. As her feelings for Phoenix grew, her feelings for Dahlia grew too. She didn't even know it, until she was back at Hazakura and discovered Dahlia had gone ahead with her plan-the flash then and there, love turned to hatred, left to simmer until it boiled beneath the surface of her skin...

Phoenix tells her she is not her sister, because she wouldn't have killed.

Iris thinks he's wrong.

She is not her sister, because she didn't have a chance to.

- : -

_"If I had found out she was planning to kill you...I would have done whatever was necessary to stop her. Even if it meant her life... or mine." _**- Iris, T&T 5**

- : -

**Baby Steps**

- : -

The most insignificant moment can mean so much, Maya will tell her students years later in her moments of tranquil wisdom, but in her memory of that day, she is young, and happy, and as her finger traces slow spirals on the rough grain of her armchair, there are no thought for the future when she watches the baby play.

Aunt Morgan is gone for a few minutes before Maya gets bored, and kneels down on the ground in front of Pearl, who is teething on a toy Magatama.

She sighs. "How long is it going to take you to start walking?"

Pearl turns to look at her, dark eyes huge.

"I'm not trying to pressure you or anything," Maya assures Pearl hastily. "Your cousin Maya would never do something terrible like that! Not even if I was paid... Well, maybe if there's a lot of money involved... you'd just have to buy me off before they do, Pearly."

Pearl has dropped her Magatama, and Maya picks it up and returns it gently to her, with a rebuke that she'll need it. Pearl doesn't seem to care as much for it any more, though: her huge eyes are fixed on Maya, and she seems entranced whenever Maya starts talking.

Maya giggles. To her surprise, a slow smile spreads across Pearl's face.

"Ma!" Pearl says happily.

"Ma-ya," she corrects. She stretches out her hands, and taps Pearl's button nose with a gentle finger. "C'mon, Pearly. Ma-ya. Ma-ya!"

Pearl stares at Maya's swaying hands and lifts her own out, as though she wants a hug.

Maya shakes her head firmly, remembering what Pearly almost accomplished the day before. "You're coming to me, this time. C'mere." She holds out her hands and shakes them a little to get Pearl's attention and presents the most effective bribe she can think of. "If you make it, I'll give you a burger! Then your teeth will grow faster because you'll want the burger so much." She smiles winningly.

Pearl doesn't say anything. She doesn't even cry. Maya's cousin is a tough little girl, though she's only a year old.

Slowly, slowly, she is rising, wobbling as she does so. She stands straight and still, and eyes Maya beseechingly, begging for a hug. It's all Maya can do to refuse those huge, dark, adoring orbs, the intense desire that makes her small face glow.

"Nuh-uh. You did that yesterday. You have to do better."

Pearl frowns, clearly unhappy. She closes her eyes, as if to start wailing, but as she wobbles, they pop open again and she stops.

"Come on," Maya whispers, all else gone. There is something fascinating about watching a very small person doing something for the first time. She holds out her hands and keeps still.

Pearl shifts her weight and takes a step forward, and then another, wobbling and terribly off balance, but she hasn't fallen yet. One more step. Maya whispers gentle encouragement.

There's a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye, but Maya doesn't turn around.

Another wobble sends Pearl flat on her butt. Maya rushes forward, then catches herself. Pearl doesn't even look upset. She is pushing herself up again, as if desperate to reach Maya. On her feet. Another step forward-

Their hands touch, and Maya beams, but it's nothing to the glow on Pearl's vibrantly happy face. She's broken out into a gap-toothed smile. Maya smooths a soft brown curl.

"Ma!"

"Ma-ya," she says, frowning. She supposes Pearl can't get everything the first time.

"Perhaps she was referring to me?" Aunt Morgan's voice murmurs from behind her.

Maya jumps and nearly knocks Pearl over, but turns back quickly. She feels her face going red. She knows how much Morgan's wanted to see Pearl's first steps. She dotes on Pearl, but she is only her cousin.

"It's all right," Morgan says, with a slight smile at the alarm on Maya's face. "I saw everything. You love your cousin, don't you, Maya?"

"Of course!"

The smile widens-very different from Pearl's. "Then it's all right."

It's not all right, but Maya trusts her aunt, so thinks nothing of it when Pearl suddenly has to be napping around the time Maya's allowed to visit. It's only years later that she'll understand Morgan's smile, or that Morgan's whisper of, "Baby steps, first," hadn't been referring only to Pearl.

- : -

**Fire and Ice**

- : -

Red is useful in the days after State vs. Fawles.

Red is fire, anger, heat, flame, blood, hate.

Gray is misery, despair, ice, stop, flood, wait.

Fire and ice. Mia prefers heat over cold, and knows which one she will close her hands around and take.

Hatred, Mia finds, is a most useful tool indeed. The heat runs from clenched fingers, up her palm, threading through blood until she shivers and trembles both with mental fire. It slinks in her palms, liquid determination, heat from skin to bones. If she needs to find strength to leave her apartment? "Fawles." If she needs to control her irritation with her colleagues? "Dahlia." If she needs to remind herself why she's in this city, when she's tired, tired, tired? "Mother."

But this type of fire, Mia has forgotten, is all-consuming. Burning, raging, crackling, frying, blazing. Destroying. 'Be strong, Mia!' she thinks, leaving her apartment, and flames licks up her ankles. 'Be hard, Mia!' she tells herself, speaking to Mr. Hawthorne, and heat twines around her waist. 'Finish this, Mia!' she resolves, glancing at a portrait of her mother, and the world dies in an inferno of red, to make her keep walking.

"Why aren't you talking to me any longer, Mia?" whispers her little sister, and she falters.

"Why are you becoming like Hawthorne, Kitten?" he says, and she stumbles.

Hating, Mia begins to understand again, when the red has retreated, is not her goal in life. It is an easy tool; in some ways, an effective tool. Just look at her family, she thinks, branch against branch. Bloodlines, one generation after another, turning inward and waging war. Just look at Dahlia Hawthorne, she thinks, feeling kinship without knowing their link in blood. One woman dead, one man gone, and high-heeled shoes clacking away without remorse. This is hate, she knows. This is hate.

Hatred, Mia finds, is hard to shake off. It burns. Heating, teasing, flirting, waiting, pouncing. Hypnotizing. Even when she remembers to push back red, it takes just a name to start hatred blazing again. Misty, Dahlia, Terry. Fey, Hawthorne, Fawles. No cold determination will smother fire, even if her will is as hard as rock, as strong as steel, as wide as an iceberg. No ice is enough, she finds when she tries it.

This is Mia, lost: hatred and apathy, heat and cold, fire and ice. She knows which one she prefers: ice over fire.

But this time, she doesn't take it.

And if she remembers the little things like Misty's warmth, and Maya's smile, and Diego's heart, which she has to save because it is also too much fire, not picking fire and not taking ice, maybe that will be enough.

This is Mia: choosing, trying, loving. This is Mia, facing the difficult task of trying not to hate.

- : -

**TBC**

_R & R, please_


	2. Side B: Light

**Coin Toss**  
_By icecreamlova_  
Side B: Light

- : -

- : -

**Seduction**

- : -

There is nothing better than learning she's the center of someone's world.

(The back of his hand brushing the line of her jaw; ah, his skin is not smooth, but if she inhales, she can almost taste the tang of his skin, sharply addictive.)

There is nothing worse than being ousted by an inanimate object.

In, out.

In, out.

(Ignore him if he's ignoring you.)

She doesn't want to spend the night alone, as in with no company thank you very much, and he's here, but his attention is focused away from her; down, down, into that swirling dark concoction, lapping against the smooth edges of his cup when he moves. He's not here like she is, and Mia wants to remedy that. Who likes losing out to coffee, anyway?

If she could step outside her body and look, she would see herself rising, with the rippling grace of a jungle cat, the predator that she is. It's strangely easy to let charades drop; sister, heiress, avenger, co-worker... failure. How many months has she been comfortable enough to lick her lips when she closes the distance between them and drapes herself over his shoulder, a hand reaching for the detestable cup of coffee that's been stealing her limelight?

Her pulse pounding in her neck and unfurling in her face, Mia concludes she does not know. It's as exhilarating as it is frightening to become so close to someone; a different feeling of empowerment bursting at what she's capable of as a woman.

He notices her, of course. She would do this with no one else, but there's no straight man who can NOT notice Mia Fey when she's not a professional lawyer, and he leans back into her embrace, head turning until his lips brush the crook of her neck in a surprisingly fiery kiss.

He's not getting away that easily.

Her hand reaches out and plucks his cup out before he knows it, pulling away to stand up straight. He's still reeling, turning on the chair to face her, when she brings it to her lips - she's wondering just how seductive her competition can really be.

She can feel him watching, entranced, as small flecks of light brown foam gather where coffee flows, and her tongue darts out to clean her lips. The evening seems warmer with a burst of mirthful pleasure at his obvious fascination. Sip - then smile, gaze flitting sideways to watch him with coy elegance; learn that this exploration of something so beautiful is starting to heal her heart. _(Are you feeling alive yet?)_

He chuckles, low and dark, one not-smooth hand reaching for her elbow to pull her closer. "I wondered how long you could ignore it."

She smiles at Diego, not at all like her sharp, calm, daylight self, and, setting the cup away, grins in victory.

"I guess we both win," she murmurs, acknowledging the two-sided seduction, and his low laughter rumbles against the corner of her mouth.

His hand tangles in the long locks of her unbound hair, and she smiles at the taste of bitter coffee on his lips as well as hers. He's certainly here now. _I love you,_ he tells her with his actions when he pulls back and stares at her, awed; when he leans his forehead against hers and they inhale together; when he closes his eyes, relaxed, as she runs fingers through his own strangely shaggy hair. _I love you._

There is nothing better than learning she's the center of someone's world.

- : -

**Counting Burgers**

- : -

Maya eats a burger at every important moment in her life.

It starts when Mother disappears. Sis guides her away from the arguing elders and into their room, where Mia holds her tight. It feels so safe. She is two years old, and falls asleep. When she wakes up, hungry, Mia laughs and brings her to the kitchen, where Maya devours a burger. She learns, then, just how much she loves her sister.

Her first training session as a spirit medium. It is unsafe, but the elders bring her to a river and force her under an icy waterfall. She cries, but no one can tell; afterwards, aunty brings her a burger to cheer her up, and tells her she did excellent. She associates pain with gain, and learns not to tell anyone.

She meets Phoenix. He is such a good person. She doesn't tell him; he might get a big head. She is afraid, at first, to let him see beyond the quirky personality she has, but then he takes her to a fast food restaurant. She watches how he is willing to give up the burgers to make sure she has enough, so she will cheer up. Maya learns from him what it means to truly open her heart-to trust so fully, and go beyond a cheerful, agreeable persona.

Mother is gone, and Pearl is alone. She takes Pearl out to eat-just the two of them-and tears off a bit of her burger before handing the rest to Pearl, when she sees the girl is shivering from cold. Pearl hesitates; Maya stops and asks what's wrong. She lets Pearl talk-pushing away her own pain for Pearl, as she understands now that Mia and Phoenix did for her-and holds her as she cries. She ages another few years that day.

- : -

**Savior**

- : -

She does not meet Diego there, but she does meet other people.

Her father.

Her aunts.

Her grandparents.

They greet her with more enthusiasm than when she walked among the living.

Death is a sort of absolution, she supposes. It can't get any worse, so it falls on you to make it better.

Her father hugs her, as well as he can, in the afterlife.

Her aunts meet her with smiles.

She has never met her grandparents, but she finds that they are good people.

She does not meet her mother there, but then, she never expected to, and others are there waiting.

Her cousins.

Her uncles.

A sibling she never knew.

But such secrets do not survive death, and the infant smiles at her with unearthly knowledge. He has been dead for years yet.

She finds Terry Fawles, that sad first client of hers, and apologizes.

She finds Gregory Edgeworth, the father of her first opponent, and asks him about his son.

She does not find Diego, and wonders why.

She becomes more used to the afterlife.

Others arrive, who are not as benign.

Redd White. He remembers who unmasked him.

Manfred von Karma. He remembers who taught Wright.

And Dahlia Hawthorne.

No words are enough to describe HER.

They cannot hurt her... not really... but for a timeless moment, she is afraid...

...Spirits, swarming around her. Tormenting. _You killed us._ You'll pay for eternity...

...And then they crowd around her. The others. Fawles. Cousins. Grandparents. She was their savior.

Now they save her.

She is ready for Diego when he finally arrives.

- : -

**Brave New World**

- : -

_"...it also gave her all the pleasures of miniaturization. A world could be made in five pages... Her passion for tidiness was also satisfied, for an unruly world could be made just so."_ **- Ian McEwan, Atonement**

- : -

There is something inherently messy about the phenomenon that is humanity.

Pearl doesn't understand this at first. To her, the world is clean and ordered, sparkling-bright and transparent.

The truth, she knows instinctively, always comes out in the end, no matter what. Lies crumble away like fine sand held in her small palms, she learns. Truth tumbles from honest lips; hers, if no one else's, because she cannot really hold it back.

Drowsing lazily at Mr. Nick's and Maya's workplace, watching Mr. Nick fight for the truth on the other side of the television screen, Pearl thinks she would never want to.

The problem with such childish perceptions is that they fade away, when one grows up, and the shock at watching sacred laws vanish-nearly traceless-bowls over the strongest of people as though they have no weight.

It is a bitterly cold afternoon, ice-cold aching deeply in her bones, when she comes to understand the meaning of 'truth.'

She thinks about Mother's letter, not burnt enough that Mr. Nick couldn't understand it - the letter that twisted the world into distorted shapes and colors.

Mother spoke not a single lie in that letter.

It was horrifying and terrible and awful and any other word Pearl can use, ice sliding around her veins as circumstance pries open her eyelids, and it was NOT the truth...

...but there were no lies.

And suddenly, the world was no longer simple.

What does it mean, she wonders now, to balance on the knife-edge between black and white, truth and lies?

The last trial was like taking a step into the world outside, only to find the terrifying shadows from before were just that-shadows-while real monsters lurk in other places.

Everyone, she discovered then, has a whole world of possibilities hidden away inside them, where truth is subjective to their whims.

It was a terrifying experience.

Her shame at discovering Mother's makes her run, burrowing into the ice and snow at Hazakura.

Pearl is not afraid, except she's miserable, and ashamed, and terrified - fear is too inadequate a word.

She doesn't want to see what awaits her, in this messy world where she must search, and search again, to find that gem of truth in the lies.

She doesn't want to see that Mother had an entire world hidden away, where good is bad, and clean and simple is inverted into a thousand twisting colours.

What sort of twisted place holds hurting Maya as saving Pearl?

In her simple way, she doesn't think anyone can make her stay outside-to make her look at the jumble of ugly thoughts that comes from the complicated phenomenon of people, flooding into her clean white world.

But then Mystic Maya holds out her hand, and smiles at her to show her she is not alone, and Pearl finds the courage to face a brave new world.

There may be darkness in every heart, she knows now to remind herself, but there is also light.

- : -

**END**

_R & R, please_


End file.
